Volcano (38 page)

Screaming with fury, the American crashed to the ground a second time as Charlie slammed into him. The gun fired again, and Charlie's heart nearly stopped beating. Penelope. The Russian was after Penelope.

Without hesitation, Charlie stomped the American's soft belly as he leapt up. He'd give the damned Russian a much bigger target to cope with than Penelope.

A siren screamed in the distance as he raced toward the circular boardwalk where Penelope had stood not moments before. He could see the shimmering red of her gown darting across the paved walkway to the parking lot. To his left, a bulky shadow loped in the same direction—straight across the volcano's core.

It was possible to walk on the hardened crust, in places. But even the most experienced of guides couldn't always predict where those places were. One of the more foolhardy a few years back had jumped up and down on the crust to earn a few extra tourist dollars for his daring. He hadn't survived the burns to collect them. A man the size of the Russian probably weighed three times as much as one of the native guides.

Intent on Penelope's fleeing figure in the darkness of the tree-lined road ahead, the Russian ignored Charlie racing the circular side road. Maybe the goon was out of bullets.

A second siren joined the first and both wailed closer. Penelope had a head start and could probably have outraced both of them, if she'd been wearing something more sensible than heels. Charlie's heart caught in his throat as he watched her stumble, but she righted herself and ran on. Damn, she could run.

Charlie saw the blaze of bullets before he heard them. He howled in anguish as the red silk of Penelope's gown faltered, swayed, and toppled. Despite the shooting pain in his knee, he pumped his legs harder, praying to hold back time, to stop the action, to jump in front of bullets already fired—anything but see Penelope crumple onto the gravel of the road.

Not Penelope, he gasped as he ran, not his beautiful, hard- headed Penelope. His lungs choked on air he didn't breathe as he tried to reach her before the goon with the gun did. Please, God, keep Penelope—

An anguished shriek from his left jerked Charlie's attention back to the volcano. The sulfurous fumes scorched the air, and he nearly choked as he caught his breath. In disbelief, he watched the Russian stumble, throw up his hands, and fall face forward into the heated crust of the lava.

Shutting out the horror of the sight, chest heaving, running almost entirely with the thrust of one leg, Charlie rushed toward the place he'd last seen Penelope. The Russian deserved the hell of the volcano for harming his woman.

Charlie's knee collapsed under him, and he staggered as the red silk half rose from the gravel. She swiveled to stare at the place where the Russian had gone down.
Penelope was alive.

Heart singing, Charlie righted himself. The piercing screams of agony from the volcano halted abruptly. Behind him, Charlie sensed the American tottering to his feet. Ahead, even Penelope halted in the sudden silence. Frozen, they all stared at the place where the Russian had been moments before.

Siren wails propelled them into action again. The American, too far away to accomplish anything, crashed into the shrubbery. Charlie briefly contemplated running after him, but he could tell by the way Penelope rose cautiously, watching the volcano, that he had more pressing problems on his hands. And the damned island police had arrived.

“Don't, Penny!” he shouted as she limped toward the boardwalk.

Charlie caught her by the shoulders and jerked her away from the sight of the steaming volcano. Flashing red lights halted in the parking lot a few yards away, and dark figures leapt out, weapons pulled.

“Let the cops do their duty.” Blocking the volcano with his bulk, he ran his hands up and down her, searching for damage, his heart pounding so erratically he thought it might explode. “Are you hurt? Tell me where he hit you.”

“I fell. The damned heel broke on my shoe.” With disgust, Penelope leaned against him to examine the damage. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

All the air flew out of him. Head spinning in relief, Charlie steered her away from the volcano edge, into the deeper darkness of the trees, where the flashing lights didn't reach. “How the hell did the cops know where to find us?”

“I found a cell phone in the car.”

She shivered despite the humid heat, and Charlie hugged her tighter. She was always so strong and courageous, he'd forgotten how slender she was. He could wrap his fingers around both her wrists and have room to spare. Her vulnerability terrified him. He could have lost her. He could have woken up to a world with no Penelope in it, no long legs and biting wit. No soul-searing kisses or clever tongue. No wide brown eyes shimmering with tears over a damned teddy bear. A world without all that wasn't worth living in.

Charlie wanted to haul her into his arms, howl “I love you” at the stars, and smother her with kisses until her senses got the better of her brains and she agreed to anything he asked. Instead, he held her tightly against him as one of the cops approached.

In native patois, he identified himself and warned of the body in the volcano. The cop shouted over his shoulder, and the rest of the night's ordeal began.

* * *

“There's still no proof Jacobsen's involved,” Emile argued from his bed, where he sat with his head bandaged and his dislocated arm in a sling. “He was talking to your mother when that criminal broke in and stole the seal right from my hands. He wasn't anywhere near my study.”

“And what the hell were you doing with the seal out?” Charlie asked angrily.

“I got Jacobsen here as you requested so he could sign those papers. I didn't see any reason to waste my time and his if this was all a misunderstanding. I wanted the papers ready for Jacobsen to take with him when he left.”

“Papers he'd asked for in the first place? Ones that had to have your seal?” Charlie pointed out. He couldn't believe Emile was still vacillating over Jacobsen's guilt.

“That doesn't mean anything.” Emile slammed his coffee cup on the tray.

“Well, fine, don't listen to me then, but if you don't call the rest of the Foundation's board and have him voted out, I won't bail you out when it sinks like a stone.” Charlie paced the bedroom floor restlessly. He'd grabbed a few hours' sleep after the cops brought them home and before Emile woke, but he was operating on pure adrenaline. He needed to talk with Penelope, find out where the devil Raul had taken Tammy, and get home to his business. He didn't need his stepfather's bullheadedness.

“I scarcely have all my funds tied up in one company,” Emile replied dryly. “No matter what your opinion of me, I'm not a fool.”

“And I'm no accountant, but I have a good grasp of borrowing power. What will the banks here loan? Two, three times the Foundation's assets? And Jacobsen could lay his hands on all that money with a signature and a seal?” Charlie clenched his fists and glanced at the door. Penelope would still be sleeping. She'd had a long, exhausting twenty-four hours. He needed to figure out what to say to her when she woke.

“I'll have the board change the bylaws to require three signatures for loans, then I'll look for a buyer for my share of the company,” Emile compromised.

“Fine. Whatever.” Charlie forced his attention back to the bed. “Has anyone heard from Raul or Tammy?”

“I'll not let that colored son of a—”

Charlie cut him off. “With that attitude, you'll drive Tammy right into his arms, and damned if I'll stop them. Raul's a good man. She could do far worse. I just want to make certain Jacobsen hasn't found some way to get at them.”

“You have no proof—” Emile began again when a knock at the door interrupted him.

Vivian stuck her head in. Finding her son, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Penelope just left in a cab. I thought you should know.”

Oh, hell, he'd waited too long. That overworked brain of hers had kicked in again, and she was running like the sensible woman she was. Only this time, Charlie had more sense than to believe he could let her go.

***

Penelope stood in the broiling humidity of the interminable waiting line at the airport ticket counter. The lackadaisical fans overhead scarcely stirred the waves of heat pouring off the masses of humanity yearning for home.

Well, maybe she was the only one yearning. The rest of the crowd looked sun-bronzed and relaxed after days of tropical vacation. She still hadn't done more than set a toe in the surf.

She could stay, she supposed. Now that the police knew about Jacobsen and his cronies, she could stay and listen to Charlie's protestations of gratitude or concern or whatever other excuse he'd make up to keep her here while her career went down the drain.

Only the real reason for running wasn't her job, but her damned cowardice. She'd woken up this morning with anxiety slamming into her chest like a sledgehammer. Last night had been a fantasy where they'd dressed up in party clothes, drunk champagne, and Charlie had whispered pretty words of love she wanted to hear. They'd chased bad guys and won. Reality had smacked her in the face this morning.

A man had died in a volcano and Charlie had almost been killed.

Life and death. She'd never been more shaken in her life than the moment Charlie had gone down in a hail of bullets. Only the car accident that had ended Beth's sight had ever torn her so completely from her roots, leaving her swinging in the wind. Sheer terror of a man like Charlie—a good man, a brave one who fought with everything in his power for his beliefs—dying before her eyes while she watched, helpless, had broken something inside her. She couldn't live through that again. Wouldn't.

Worse was realizing why Charlie's near death had shaken her so horribly. She couldn't face the changes inside her just yet. Things had happened too fast. She hadn't had time to adjust to these terrifying emotions he'd awakened, or to follow the logical path to where such emotions led. Maybe after life had returned to normal, she could look at this episode through clearer eyes. She'd been in love before. It had been a stupendously blinding experience. She knew better than to jump in headfirst now.

Maybe, if it hadn't been for Beth, if it hadn't been for her career, she could have loosened up and enjoyed the possibilities of Charlie's company a little longer. As it was, she was terrified that if she stayed longer, she'd never want to leave.

She was almost at the front of the line. In back of her, the hordes of tourists with their stacks of suitcases stirred restlessly, murmuring louder. Children chattered, a baby cried, and a loud male voice protested something impatiently. Penelope laid her passport and credit card on the counter. She wished she was better with accents. She struggled to understand the ticket clerk's questions.

As she picked up the ticket, she thought she heard someone calling her name. Her heart stumbled, but she'd been down that road before and knew better than to follow it. Ignoring the sound, she strode briskly toward the departure lounge, carrying her teddy bear and carry-on. Let Charlie figure out how to ship the rest of her luggage to her. With ticket in hand, she walked through the gates without trouble.

A mob milled around her even in here. At least this part of the terminal was air-conditioned. She could wander the few stores while she waited for her flight. Where had this place been hidden while she'd been herded like so much cattle at her first arrival?

How long ago had that been? It seemed like forever, but she supposed it had been scarcely two weeks. No sane person could fall in love in two weeks.

She wandered in and out of shops until her flight was called. If she'd thought she'd heard Charlie earlier, she must have imagined it. She despised tearful farewells. It would only be her tears anyway. Charlie would just argue until they both got angry. It was better this way.

The blast of heat off the tarmac nearly knocked her sideways as she stepped out when her flight was called. Out of habit, she wore the business suit she'd arrived in. It didn't matter. The airplane would be cooler.

She stood in line with the other passengers, following the markings on the pavement to the small airplane waiting for them. Things had certainly changed since she'd arrived here the first time, terrified of the unknown. Now she knew she could handle a great deal more than she'd ever thought possible, thanks to Charlie.

As she strolled toward the plane, she noticed armed soldiers casually pacing the runway. Maybe they had drug- sniffing dogs somewhere.

Uneasiness crept beneath her skin as two of the soldiers turned and consulted each other while watching her. Men often stared at her. She shouldn't worry. They were probably just exchanging dirty jokes. She'd bet Charlie would tear their heads off if he heard them. She kind of liked that Neanderthal aspect of him. She was tired of defending herself, tired of hiding behind dependable business suits. She wanted to wear red again.

When the soldiers approached and took her arm, pulling her out of the line, Penelope panicked. Terror shot through her with the speed of adrenaline. They spoke English, but her ears didn't comprehend. She tried to shake free, but they held her firmly.